


The Price of Dreams and Broken Things

by Netrixie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, In later chapters - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netrixie/pseuds/Netrixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles never thought he'd ever be able to turn his back on his country. But it was surprisingly easy.  Slow burn, pre-slash.</p><p>Edit: on hiatus until I get my life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn pre slash sterek. Rating will change in later chapters.

Stiles slipped into the dark room, easing the door shut behind him. It was sparsely furnished, just a few chairs and a cold hearth, but upsettingly empty of people. Stiles let out a tense breath, and the frown that hadn’t left him all day deepened. At this point he couldn’t afford any deviations from the plan… if they didn’t show up soon he was going to have to leave without saying goodbye.

“Come on, come  _ on _ ,” he muttered, tapping his foot, “There’s no time for this shit Scott.”

The words had barely left his lips before the door opened again and two bodies staggered into the room, Stiles’ knife in his hand even as he realized who it was. He put it away just as quickly as he had drawn it, and clenched his shaking fingers into a fist, relief coursing through him.

“Goddamnit, you were supposed to be here already, I don’t-”

“Stiles, I know, I know, we’re sorry but Chris stopped us.” Allison’s interruption made Stiles swear, and his eyes narrowed.

“What happened.” He didn’t even bother making it a question, and Scott grimaced at his best friend.

“He wasn’t suspicious or anything, just…‘Where are you going?’ ‘Scott, you can’t have her all to yourself all of the time’, stuff like that. Took just enough time to make us late.” Scott watched as Allison made her way to one of the chairs and sat down, then rested his elbows on the high back of it. “I’m sorry, but we’re here now. Is everything ready?”

“Barely- but enough is done where Whittemore will be able to cover anything that I’ve missed.” Stiles shook his head at the thought of relying on  _ Jackson _ of all people, but added, “I wish I had more time…”

“We don’t have any, I know.” Allison’s voice was soft, but steady. Her eyes sought out Stiles’ and she shook her head. “We’ve done as much as possible from here.” Allison paused. “We tried. And it didn’t seem to make a difference. So now we have to do it this way.” Stiles dropped his gaze and shook his head, cracking his neck as he did so.

“I know. I know!” Stiles shook himself all over, feeling a few more bones crack, and stood up straight. “They’re going to lose if they continue on like they have been… I just wish I had time to explain to Dad.” Allison started to say something, but Stiles waved a hand in her direction, shaking his head again. “It’s fine, I agreed to this because I’m the only one who can do it.”

Scott stepped around Allison’s chair and swept him into a fierce hug that Stiles gladly returned. He let himself be held for a long moment before pulling away, the clock in the back of his mind constantly ticking. Allison stood and came over to the two men, wrapping her arms tightly around Stiles’ middle and hiding her face in his neck. He kissed her hair, but stepped away and gathered himself.

“Take care of yourself, Princess,” he said to her, bowing. “Don’t do anything stupid, brother.” Stiles added, glancing at Scott and grinning with him for a second. “Lydia will let you know if the first part works.”

“Good luck, Stiles. We’ll be waiting.” With Allison’s parting words still in the air, Stiles left.

* * *

Allison stepped into Scott’s embrace, and they settled back into one of the oversized chairs. “This has the chance to go horribly wrong.” she said, and Scott’s arms tightened, worry tensing every muscle in his body.

“It already has. That’s why we’re doing it.”

* * *

Leaving the castle grounds was easy, although Stiles’ nerves promised assassins around every corner. But no one bothered him- no one dared. His face twisted in a sardonic smirk as he contemplated why that was. As hard as it was, he was glad to be leaving.

Taking the time to stop and say goodbye to two of the few people he cared about most in his life probably wasn’t the smartest thing Stiles could have done, but he’d be damned if he hadn’t. There was just enough light from the waning moon to see by, and he set off at an easy run through woods he’d known since he was a child.

Brilliant red hair that should have been impossible to hide was barely visible against a backdrop of massive trees, and Stiles wound his way towards it. Lydia was hidden, shadows draping her form, and Stiles appeared next to her silently. This was something they had planned for extensively- there were four other places she could have been besides this, if something had gone wrong, but Stiles was glad that this, at least, had gone right on the first try.

“How are the love birds?” She asked, and he took a few moments to lean against the tree and catch his breath before answering.

“Solid. Happy. Seemingly safe.”  _ Keeping them safe is another reason I’m doing this, _ Stiles thought, and turned to study Lydia. She was ignoring him until he was ready to start going again, but he could see the strain in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders.

“You’re ready?” She asked, still not looking at him, but Stiles nodded anyway.

“As I’ll ever be.” Lydia leaned down, and grabbed a pack from near her feet. Stiles took it when she offered it to him, and studied it. It was shabby and filthy, and he wondered where she had been able to find something like it, given the luxury she was usually surrounded by. He knew better than to ask, and also better than to look into the pack to make sure everything was there. This whole escapade was based on trust- although every nerve in him demanded that he double and triple check everything he could. But while trust had always been there between them, now was the time to show it, so he just slung it onto his back.

“Any news?” Stiles asked, mostly to fill the silence, and Lydia shook her head.

“Nothing has changed.” She turned to face him, and Stiles resettled the pack more firmly in place. “Your guide will be waiting near the border, they’ll get you in and get you settled. You need to be there by the time the new moon hits.”

“I know. I will be.”

“Get out of here already,” Lydia said, and sighed. She put her hand to his cheek and held it there, searching his eyes. “This is such a stupid idea.”

“All I need to do is gain the trust of the commander.” Stiles leaned into her touch and smiled gamely. “After that it’s a piece of cake.”

“You’re a moron,” she said affectionately, and patted his cheek. “Go, you don’t have long. Scott and I will be fine, and Allison will be amazing, as usual.”

Stiles pressed a quick kiss to her hand, and stepped away. “See you later, Lady Whittemore. Give Jackson hell for me.”

“I already do,” Lydia responded primly, and abruptly turned and walked away.

Stiles straightened his shoulders, oriented himself with a glance at the sky, and began the long trek to the border.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek leaned against the rough wall, hands clasped in front of him. One thumb rubbed slowly over a scar as he thought, letting the conversation flow around him. Names, places, and casualty figures filled the air, and his face settled even more deeply into the frown that hadn’t left him in weeks. Talia was also quiet, seated at the throne-like chair at the head of the table. Her brilliant eyes never left the map that was constantly being rearranged. Laura stood next to her, arguing loudly with Peter, which was nothing new. Derek watched them for a moment, noting the way his sister’s eyes began to flash, and sighed.

Tensions had been rising in the family, Laura and Peter both urging for action but disagreeing- often violently- about how and where reinforcements should be sent. Talia mostly stayed out of their way, preferring to wait to see if they became disruptive. Derek knew she thought it was better to let them vent their tempers on each other- as Alphas, either of them would wreak havoc on other opponents. Everyone was happy enough to let them soften the edge.

Generals and Commanders from all over the country were gathered around the central table. It housed the map that held Talia’s attention, figurines in wide patches of color that denoted troop movement and enemy positions. Derek could see that what was shown now was vastly different than even from a month ago. He narrowed his eyes in thought as he watched a tall man move rearing red wolves meticulously, wondering who he was. He was obviously another werewolf, although not a part of any of Derek’s family packs. The man seemed disinterested in what was going on around him, and that was enough reason for Derek to take note.

George stood from his seat next to Talia, and Derek rubbed one of his scars absently as the others began to quiet down and face his father, until the room was silent.

“Now that we’ve released some tension, let’s have a civilized discussion.” George turned to the tall wolf Derek had been watching, and nodded. “Lieutenant Ennis is here in place of Commander Deucalion.” The wolf- Ennis- inclined his head. “What is the disposition of the Red Army?”

Derek held down the snort that tried to escape from him, but from the way his mother flicked her eyes in his direction, he hadn’t been entirely successful. The ‘Red Army’ was what the south-eastern population had started calling Deucalion’s command, because the man’s insignia was a red wolf on a crimson field. Derek thought it was silly that his father had legitimized the nickname, but no one had ever asked for his opinion.

Ennis stood and bow slightly to his rulers. “Casualty figures have nearly doubled in the last three weeks alone, though thankfully our wounded far outnumber our dead. Little River was lost after I was dispatched- the messenger caught up to me only hours before I arrived here.” A low gasp ran around the table, and Talia squeezed her eyes shut. Ennis continued. “The Argents pushed our eastern flank and while we were occupied attacked from the south. Lord Deucalion is maneuvering to drive them back out. We have had to request healers from the local villages and barter for supplies.” The man paused, then lifted a thick envelope. “I was entrusted with my Lord’s official report- it is sealed, though I am aware of its contents. Sire?”

George held his hand out and the packet flew to him. He took a plain blade from his belt and neatly sliced it open, then handed a few pages to Talia and inspected the rest briefly. The King passed one to a nearby scribe after scanning it, and spoke in a low tone. The scribe bowed, and George turned back to Ennis as the servant left. “I have given them the list of items your Commander has requested. Do you have anything further to add?”

Ennis shook his head, saying “All is detailed in my Lord’s report.”

This time Talia was the one who spoke.

“Lieutenant, you may report to my Steward. Thank you.” At the clear dismissal, Ennis bowed low and left the room without another word.

_ Why did mother have Ennis leave so soon?  _ Derek wondered,  _ Especially since now he doesn’t get to hear the other officers and can’t report back to his Commander…   _ Given the looks from a few other people around the table, he wasn’t the only one thinking it.

After a moment Peter was on his feet, gesturing to the map. “Little River is a mile behind the front lines- how could Deucalion have lost it? What else is going on down there?”

Talia silenced her brother with a raised hand, and nodded to the next officer. Peter huffed in frustration but sat, leaning forward and bracing his forearms against the sturdy wood.

“My scouts report blockades in three new areas,” Captain Malia began, rising and grabbing the appropriate figurines from a nearby table. “In addition to existing structures, the pattern we’re seeing leads me to believe that Argent is forcing people to strip their own land to house his men. Enemy troop numbers have swelled in the eastern sector- we estimate at least 400 additional soldiers have moved into position-”

Derek gritted his teeth as he listened to the calm, steady voice of the Scout Captain, and forced himself to stay in place. This whole mess was his fault. The least he could do was listen.

* * *

Derek stayed behind as the officers filed out hours later, until only he and his family remained. Laura sighed explosively and slung her legs up over the arm of her chair, kicking Peter as she did so. Derek headed over to claim a chair near Talia. George absently fiddled with his belt knife as he thought, watching it spin untouched in the air above his fingers.

The silence was broken by his uncle, not surprisingly. “Talia,” Peter said urgently leaning forward to look directly at his sister, “There’s no reason Little River should have been lost.” The King put his knife away and sighed.

“I know,” Talia responded. “I’m looking into it, Peter, I have been. Why do you think I got him out of the room so quickly?” She drummed her fingers on the table, and frowned. “Deucalion has always been a thorn in my side.”

Peter snorted. “He’s  _ your _ Alpha, can’t you bring him to heel?”

Talia ran a hand through her black hair, mussing it out of the plain braid she usually wore, and annoyance trickled into her scent. “You know how tricky that is. If I bear down on one Commander- and  _ especially _ with Deucalion’s situation, where he’s recently suffered a massive setback- people will claim that I’m abusing my power to punish Alpha’s who don’t perform.”

Laura rolled her eyes, and leaned out of range of her uncle. “You should punish your brother then, to set the example.” She smiled guilelessly at her mother and laughed at the exasperated look she received. “But really, Mother,” she said, sobering quickly, “Something needs to be done. Massive casualties, but little to no death? Unexpected loss of ground that we’re only  _ just _ hearing about? He and his pack are up to something.”

“Deucalion has been ‘up to something’ from the first moment he walked into the castle,” Derek muttered sourly, and Laura nodded emphatically.

“Regardless,” Talia brought the conversation back under control, “We have measures in place.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Peter stressed the word, “tell me that means you’re going to put spies in his camp.”

George nodded. “You assume correctly. Aside from filling his ranks with people who owe him personally and steadily  _ losing _ ground in an area where the fighting has been lightest, he’s now refusing to come to the Council Meetings.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “He refused?” he asked, not as surprised as he should have been, but still shocked.

Laura waved a hand at her brother, saying sardonically, “Oh, no. You know how he is. ‘I can’t leave, the situation is too urgent. Please accept my Second in Command as a replacement.’” She snorted. “As if Ennis isn’t just as much a traitor as his master.”

“Let’s not start calling people traitors just yet dear,” Talia interjected, “That has a way of gaining a momentum that is impossible to stop. We need official proof of such a thing, and I’ve sent trustworthy people in that escort. They will be able to tell us definitively.”

“Ah, yes who did you send, sister?” Peter asked, interest gleaming in his eyes. “Such a delicate mission to entrust to just anyone.”

George glanced at Derek, and pursed his lips. “I thought about asking your permission first, of course,” he began, and Derek’s back stiffened. “But time is of the essence and they were the first names to come to mind.”

A wave of violet washed over his vision, and he forced himself to relax. “Who?” he grated out, and Talia took over from her husband.

“Erica and Boyd had already agreed to help, Derek. As your father said, time was not on our side.”

Derek stared at his father, then slowly dragged his gaze to his mother. He sent his thoughts out towards his two betas, and felt them- alive and healthy- but getting further away.

“They’ve left already.” He stated, and Talia nodded.

“Please understand, Laura’s pack is already spread far and wide and Peter’s is waiting for him to return to them.”

Abruptly a wave of shame crashed over him, and he lowered his head to avoid his family’s eyes. “No, I understand. The least I can do is allow my pack to be of use to you.” He stood and Talia reached out for him but he dodged her hand and headed for the door.

“Derek-” she began, but he ignored her.

“Goodnight,” he said, “Please keep me informed of what they report.”

He shut the door behind him and went to find Isaac.

* * *

Isaac was down by the stables, easy enough for Derek to find. The night was crisp and clear, and the moon was already high in the sky. His beta was silent, but he always was. What he didn’t expect was the lack of resentment in the other man’s scent.

“You were here to see them off?” He asked, and saw Isaac’s nod out of the corner of his eye. “Good.”

The horses in the field ignored them, even though the werewolves were much closer than any other horse would ever let them get. They were trained for it though, and Peter’s cavalry regularly pulled from this herd. Derek watched them, watched the moonlight shine off of their coats as they meandered through their paddock, and began to get restless. He felt his skin shiver under his shirt, and he blew out a decisive breath.

“Want to run?” He asked his beta, who looked up in surprise and nodded. Derek hopped the fence lithely and trotted through the herd to the other side, stopping for a moment to run a hand over the flank of a nearby horse. The animal whickered a greeting, snuffling around his pockets for a treat and huffing in displeasure when he didn’t find anything.

Derek laughed, and promised, “Next time,” before continuing to the opposite fence. Isaac was already there, stripping off his shirt and laying it neatly over the post. Derek quickly did the same, taking off his pants and welcoming the change. It came over him quickly, effortlessly, and he waited for Isaac to finish before nudging his shoulder with his muzzle in greeting. Derek was half again the size of his beta, a gift of his heritage. Peter tells him he’s the spitting image of Talia at this age and Derek doesn’t doubt it. Laura could be her twin in the wolf.

The three of them shared the same solid black fur, but where Derek was heavily muscled Laura was lithe and sharp, the same as Talia except for the dusting of silver that graced their mothers coat.

Isaac’s dark golden brown was a startling contrast to his own coat, and Derek dropped his jaw in a canine grin as his beta rolled around on the ground. He sat as he waited, watching the sky. The calm of the wolf was a welcome relief after the stress of the war council. Derek grunted as Isaac crashed into his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts with an invitation to play. Derek allowed the play fighting for a few minutes, before taking off in the opposite direction Erica and Boyd had left in.

Derek missed them more when he was like this, with the wolf inside him unleashed and worrying. He missed the flashes of gold through the trees as Erica baited Boyd by careening against him, snapping her jaws at her husband before taking off again. Isaac kept pace with his Alpha easily, tongue lolling carefree out of the side of his mouth. They circled the castle, the land wide enough to make it a challenge even for them, and after about an hour they came back to the spot they had started in.

A thought sat in the back of Derek’s mind, and as he dressed he pondered it.

“Isaac?”

His beta turned to look at him, fiddling with the thin scarf draped over his shoulders. “Yeah, boss?”

Derek turned to look up at the moon. “How do you feel about helping Erica and Boyd?”

Sudden interest turned Isaac’s scent sharp, and he smiled. “Sign me up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is written, just working out some editing issues. They will start getting longer from here on out. I'm going to attempt to keep my updates at the end of the week (Fri/Sat/Sun) or sooner if I have more than just one buffer chapter written. Thanks for checking it out!

Stiles stirred uneasily before schooling his body back into motionlessness. The branch he was laying on was not the worst thing he’d ever rested against, but the bark irritated him, reminding him of when he was younger, before he learned to control his excess energy. The area Stiles was in was densely wooded, thick tall trees that had made for a perfect perch. He’d mapped out the area before choosing this tree- it was far enough back from the designated meeting spot to flee if this went sideways, but still near enough to see whoever came looking for him.

It had been three long days since he had left Lydia, and Stiles was more than ready to meet his guide and get this over with. The sun was beginning to set, a spectacular, bloody portrait that Stiles prayed wasn’t a portent of times to come. He could just hear the bubbling rush of the stream to his west, a soothing sound at odds with the tension he felt.

A sudden feeling had him clinging ever closer to the branch, and he waited, heeding the warning from instincts he had long ago learned to trust. It was only a few minutes later that a lone figure emerged from the west, and Stiles watched it carefully. In the gathering darkness and with how thick the foliage was the figure could have been anyone, and he hoped that whoever it was would either go away or use the signal that had been agreed upon…  _ before _ they looked up and he had to kill them.

_That_ _would be a good way to introduce yourself, murdering people._ Stiles huffed a mirthless laugh and waited patiently. Whoever it was was certainly taking their time.

“The sun sets upon the east.” Her voice was dry, her tone indicating just how asinine she found the phrase. But that was  _ exactly  _ why it had been chosen, and Stiles lowered himself to the ground soundlessly and walked out into the open, assessing the woman who had come to collect him. She was slightly shorter than he was, and her hair was done up in an easy bun. She stood easily, light on her toes, and Stiles’ experienced eye picked out the various weapons concealed in her subdued clothing.

“Silly phrase.” Stiles responded from behind her. “The sun is supposed to rise in the east, isn’t it?” He asked, smiling innocently as she turned, noting her lack of surprise.

The woman just snorted. “Captain Stilinski?” Her voice was void of any emotion, brown eyes raking over his frame and assessing him thoroughly.

Stiles bowed, barely enough to be considered polite. “I assume you must be my guide.”

The tawny haired woman raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Now come, we must get moving.” She turned her back on him without a second thought, and Stiles fell in behind her. The woman showed no hesitation, no emotion at all at his name. She  _ must _ know who he is… But then again, this plan had been months in the making, on both sides.

There was silence until they got to the stream that Stiles had heard earlier, and he paused. This was the border between the two lands, and if he crossed it, especially given his current company, there was no going back. The woman was waiting on the other bank, looking at him without judgement. She did not say anything, but Stiles had the feeling that if he turned around now and left she would let him go and move on without him.

But he’d set himself on this path, and he  _ would _ finish it.

Stiles placed his foot in the water, and crossed.

* * *

“And so, things are not as optimal as we had hoped they would be by now.”

After their initial silence, his guide had introduced herself.

“ _ Call me Malia,” she'd said, and laughed as Stiles started at the sound of her voice after such a long stretch of silence. “I am a Captain of Scouts, but I bet you already knew that.”  Stiles had kept his mouth shut- he had not, in fact, known anything about the mystery woman aside from the fact that she had shown up at the right place, the right time, and spoken the right words. She continued, ignoring his silence. “I suppose I can begin to fill you in on the things one of us would know from birth.” _

That had been hours ago, and Stiles was still mulling over the tone her words had been spoken in. Curiosity and annoyance were abundantly clear, as well as a hands off, ‘I do as I'm told’ air. The contempt Stiles had been expecting was nowhere to be found, and that more than anything worried him. Were things so bad that they were willing to forgive a traitor his treason and just  _ trust  _ him? It sent chills down his spine.

Currently, Malia’s tone was bone dry, though Stiles heard the frustration and annoyance she tried to hide. The Argentin was discovering his guide did not play with her words. She was straightforward, task-oriented, and brutally honest. The last few hours had been an enlightening course in Hale politics and a depressing one in military strategy, and he understood all too well.

Stiles thought silently for a few minutes, then allowed himself an explosive sigh. “Didn’t our plan originally call for me to gain your Lord Deucalion’s trust?”

“Well yes,” Malia admitted, and side-eyed him cautiously. “But that was before we collectively realized he was going to attempt to pull a fast one.”

The man stopped walking and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “Then who’s his successor?” he asked, and snorted at the questioning expression Malia turned on him. “If he’s not going to cooperate- and it seems like you guys would be better off without him anyway- then I’ll just get rid of him.” Stiles shrugged at Malia’s shocked face, and waited.

The woman walked a few steps away and stared up at the trees while she thought.

“You are remarkably blasé about committing murder.” Malia turned to face him, then began walking along the path once more. “There is no set successor,” she continued, not giving him a chance to respond to her comment. “Succession is determined by royal decree.”

Stiles turned to stare at the other captain in disbelief. “How can that  _ work _ ?” He blurted out, “What happens if the commander dies in the middle of battle? There has to be some ranking for who would take over in that case.” He shook his head.  _ No wonder they’re losing against Gerard and Kate _ Stiles thought despairingly.

Malia waved her hand, unaware of the morbid turn his thoughts had taken. “Oh, there are precautions, of course. Chain of command and all that. It’s fairly straightforward, and Talia generally just rubber stamps battlefield promotions without too much hassle.” She paused, then added, “Unless there are complications.”

Stiles shifted his bag on his shoulders and thought about the situation. “Well, given that information, who would Talia allow to take command of Deucalion’s troops in the event of his death?” His mind turned over the information she’d given him as he waited for an answer. “And is  _ that _ person trustworthy?” he added.

His guide stopped to drag a fallen branch off of the path with barely any effort.  _ Definitely a were of some kind, _ Stiles noted, and filed the thought away.

“No one,” she answered, brushing her hands off against her pants, “Talia would recall all of his Alphas and betas and interrogate them.” She snorted at a sudden thought, and shared it when Stiles looked over towards her. “She’d probably recall every officer, even the humans, and issue replacements from Peter and Laura’s units.”

“A case of everyone being painted with the same brush?” He asked, and shook his head. “Then it’s not worth it.” He could feel Malia’s surprised glance land on him, and he sighed. “It removes entirely too many experienced officers from the battlefield,” he explained, “ones that have learned the hard lessons and survived.” Stiles grimaced. “It would be a slaughter, once your enemy realized.”

Silence reigned for a long time after his statement, and Stiles wondered absently how much further they had to go. It hadn’t seemed like such a long walk when he’d plotted it out on the map with Scott.

“I’ll get his trust somehow.” Stiles said, surprising himself by speaking the thought out loud. Malia raised a brow at him, and he gave her a flat smile in return. “Won’t be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He held back memories that tried to surface with difficulty, and thought,  _ Or even the second or third hardest _ .

Stiles snorted abruptly. “If what you told me holds true, then maybe I can make this work after all. After Gerard’s megalomania Deucalion should be easy.” Stiles grimaced. “And there I go, blowing my own cover.”

Malia shrugged and looked away, but not before he saw the startled surprise in her eyes, and cursed himself and his mouth. “You have time to learn.” Stiles laughed and she made a throw away gesture with her hand. “You’ll learn, or you’ll die.”

“So encouraging, my lady.” Stiles muttered, bowing sarcastically. She scoffed at his words and punched him in the shoulder.

“You chose us my friend. Now you get to learn how to  _ be _ us. Besides, Deucalion won’t do anything too drastic until he has proof of your loyalty.” She hummed in thought as Stiles surreptitiously rubbed his shoulder, pausing and looking around. “Ah!” The other captain pointed towards a tree that had split in half, and nodded. “This is where Highwall begins. It is where you will stay until the recruitment.”

Stiles peered past the tree, but the town was too far away for him to see. “Ok. Do you want me to go now, or do you have other things in mind?”

“Just pointing the way.” Malia turned due south and Stiles followed. “You still have much to learn before I let you lose in my army.”

“Your army?” Stiles asked, curious, and the woman nodded. “I thought the scouts were separate…”

“Technically, yes,” she replied, and shrugged. “The Infantry is the largest section of our military, because of how our country is shaped and the terrain. Horses, while extremely useful in the northern plains and the east, aren't exactly the most helpful thing to have in the mountains that surround the rest of the land.” Malia smiled wryly, and added, “Peter and Laura Hale fight viciously about the usefulness of their troops. It makes for some interesting war councils.”

Stiles started nodding unconsciously at the last words. He'd sat in on more than enough of the Argent councils, where Chris and Kate's vocal differences in tactics had the ability to blister steel. Malia continued.

“Laura and Peter control the Infantry and cavalry, respectively. The scouts are pulled from all sections of our military- we really just look for raw talent then train it up. So we were all cavalry or infantry at one point, though we have our separate traditions now. We are led by Deaton.” She paused, and flashed a smile at Stiles. “No one really knows how he convinced Talia to let him lead my branch, because everyone knows she wanted his sister, but he's remarkably sneaky for a mage, so it worked out well enough.”

Stiles’ stomach flipped at the casual mention of magic, though he schooled himself as quickly as possible. For all he knew, Malia was testing him and his reactions… and although by now he was sure she was some sort of were, he didn't really want her to learn anything about him that she didn't have to.  _ Magic _ , he thought sourly,  _ I've had more than enough of  _ that _ in my life. _

“Because Deucalion commands such a large portion of the military, he was given his own standard.” Malia didn’t acknowledge his reaction, just continued feeding him information. “The red wolf on a crimson background is his banner, where Laura has a black wolf on a blue field and Peter’s is a single golden horse.” Malia stopped speaking for a moment to dig in a pocket, and pulled out a frayed patch. She handed it to Stiles, adding, “This is the scouts- a fox on black.”

Stiles studied it, then handed it back. He’d seen two of the four flags represented on the wrong side of a battlefield, and he doubted he’d ever see the scouts unless they wanted him too. A sick feeling took hold in his stomach at the thought that he had fought against two of the Hale’s top commanders… and that they had lost every time. His jaw clenched. It was disorienting, to say the least, to hear of enemy commanders and be trusted with the information Malia would have to give him. She continued, ignoring his silence.

“Laura and Peter fight constantly over whose forces are best used where, but they seem to do well enough when it is called for.” Malia frowned. “The problem with this war is that the Argent’s have waged campaigns like this for generations- it is in their blood. We haven’t! Our land has been passed to us in peace for centuries. Any fighting we had was short and bloody, but decisive. This goes on and on like it will not end.” For a brief moment the woman’s voice was tired and frustrated.

Stiles cleared his throat. “That’s why they fight like that,” he pointed out. “They wear you down until you have nothing left, no children left to bleed for your country. Then they come in and ‘rescue’ the survivors and assimilate them into their land.” Malia looked over sharply at the bite in his voice. He raised a brow and shrugged. “It wasn’t too long ago that my grandfather’s country was ravaged by Gerard and added to the Argent collection.”

Malia nodded slowly. “Is that why you have agreed to do this, then?” she asked diffidently, but Stiles could hear the interest in her voice. He stretched his arms over his head as he thought.

“Yes, and no.” He caught sight of what looked like a small camp ahead of them, and turned to Malia. “Does anyone else know what’s going on?”

She followed his gaze, and shook her head. “No, only I and one more who is not here. Everyone else will be told you are a distant cousin who lost his parents to a raid, and now wants to join the war effort.” Stiles nodded. It was true enough, or at least close enough to the truth that he wouldn’t forget the lie. “Now,” she added, “Be silent, listen, and learn.”

There were a few people scattered around the little camp, and Stiles’ eyes caught sight of two more making their way back from somewhere else. Malia strode into the camp like she owned it, though he hung back a bit.

The captain waited until everyone had stood up and gathered around her before speaking. “Is this everyone?” She asked briskly, and the group of eight muttered responses, or just nodded. She frowned.

“When I ask you a question, you answer it! Is that clear?”

_ Oh god,  _ Stiles thought as the group let out a pitiful “Yes, ma’am”,  _ I’m going to have to go through this shit again… _

Malia sighed. “Good enough for now. I have been given the task of teaching you the basics of military life, so that when the full moon comes you are somewhat prepared, and are not an excessive burden upon Commander Deucalion.” She paced back and forth, and abruptly put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.

Two shadows from the edge of the forest coalesced into people- at least, that’s what it seemed like. Stiles had not seen them, and he doubted he would have been able to even if he had been looking.  “Weres, you go with Cora,” Malia gestured to the lighter skinned woman, who turned to face the group and grinned.

Stiles froze. His eyes landed on a jagged scar beneath the woman’s left eye and memories assaulted him.

* * *

_ The werewolf kneeling on the floor was one of the cleanest in the building. It was in startling contrast to the filth of the floor staining its knees. Stiles nudged her with the toe of his boot and she looked up at him, eyes watery but not allowing herself to cry. _

_ “Did you attack Matt?” Stiles asked, looking down at the slave and raising an eyebrow. The wolf cowered on the floor, not answering, and a black expression crossed his face. He reached down and pulled her up, ignoring her cries, and shook her. “Answer me!” He demanded, and tears leaked out of the wolf's eyes as she stared up at him. _

_ “No, Master.” _

_ Stiles dropped her in disgust and backhanded her across the face, his ring ripping her cheek open. “Never lie to me.” He snarled, and grabbed her by the throat, ignoring the blood coating his hand as he raised her to eye level. _

_ “Did you attack Matt?” _

_ The one he had named Sky gasped in pain and fear, eyes moving wildly between Stiles and the people behind him, landing on the one covered in claw marks and skittering away. _

_ “Ye- yes, Master.” _

_ Stiles leaned in and whispered viciously in her ear. “Don't you ever lie to me.” _

* * *

“The rest of you with Braeden.” The group moved sluggishly, and the captain’s eyes narrowed. “Now!” Stiles jerked back into the present at the sound of her voice, and dumbly followed her instructions.

Abruptly, he found himself being herded into a group with five others, face to face with the dark skinned, dark haired Braeden.  She took her time assessing them individually, and Stile took that time to re-balance himself.

_ Of all the people he had expected to see on this side of the border…! _

His jaw clenched and he swallowed around the acid in his throat. He’d  _ have _ to expect to see more of the werewolves he’d… he cut the thought off. What Stiles needed to do now was learn the culture and the military of these people. He’d deal with the rest as it came.

He took a second to glance at the other group, but to his surprise they were already gone.  _ Good _ , he thought as Braeden’s eyes came to rest on him,  _ the last thing I need right now is a distraction. _


End file.
